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The Leeds Palestinian Film Festival opens tonight (21 November) - running until 6 December, and co-directors Francis Bernstein and Helena Johnson are juggling venue bookings and volunteer rotas along with the familiar adrenaline that accompanies the annual festival “It’s our eleventh year,” Bernstein laughs, “but it never gets any less hectic.”
This year’s programme carries a particular urgency. “Palestine is in the news so much,” Bernstein says, “but people don’t always know the story behind the news. They don’t know Palestinians as a people, and they don’t know their lives or aspirations. Cinema brings all those things to life in such a vivid way.”
LPFF’s mission has always been “to tell the stories of Palestine as widely as possible.” It’s both an artistic and a political mission that widens understanding beyond headlines. But Bernstein and Johnson recognise that the events of the past year have sharpened its focus. “After October 7, it became more urgent to counter the idea that this was an ‘equal war,’” Bernstein says. “Throughout the genocide, it’s been important for people to know that there are people here who care, that people still want to showcase Palestinian stories.”
A network of solidarity
That solidarity runs both ways. The LPFF team has forged a new partnership with the Jerusalem International Film Festival, which continues to operate under extraordinary conditions. “They’ve been running screenings in displacement camps,” Bernstein explains. “They’re also showcasing women filmmakers from Gaza. Many weren’t filmmakers before but have started making films because they have to tell their stories.”
One filmmaker taking part this year is Juman Quneis, a Palestinian journalist and filmmaker who first came to Leeds in 2023 for a short film course. “She became part of the festival family,” says Bernstein. “This year we’re premiering her new film about Women in Black in Leeds as a group of local women who hold a silent vigil every week for Palestine.” Quneis will fly from Ramallah to attend the festival. “Those links are so special,” says Johnson. “You can feel that solidarity in the room.”
Beyond the ‘already interested’
From the beginning, LPFF has tried to reach people beyond what Bernstein calls “the already Palestine-interested.” “We wanted to make other people curious,” he says, “to hear more about the history of Palestine and its importance for global solidarity.”
That philosophy shapes the variety within the LPFF programme. “Palestinian filmmakers create love stories, road movies, comedies, animations,” Johnson adds. “You can’t pigeonhole Palestinian filmmakers - they’re as diverse as filmmakers from any other part of the world.”
One recurring theme, though, is resilience. “You see people living under occupation who are still rock climbing in the West Bank or skateboarding with their friends,” Johnson says. “These films show Palestinians as people trying to live ordinary lives under extraordinary circumstances.”
From binbags to big screens
When LPFF first launched back in 2015, it was a DIY operation. One screening even took place in a room above a Leeds bookshop, its windows covered with black binbags to block out the light. “We borrowed someone’s PA system, and the audience was mostly older white people,” recalls Bernstein.
A decade later, that improvised spirit has evolved into a city-wide event with screenings at venues such as Hyde Park Picture House and the Leeds International Film Festival. The festival is now a Community Interest Company, providing it with a formal structure while retaining its volunteer-run nature. “We’re seeing a wave of community cinema,” says Johnson. “It’s about people taking an interest in how stories are shared, and who gets to tell them.”
Highlights from this year’s LPFF
This year’s festival opens with 'State of Passion,' a new documentary about British-Palestinian surgeon Dr Ghassan Abu Sittah, whose decades of humanitarian work in Gaza’s Al Shifa and Al Ahli hospitals have drawn global attention.
Other highlights include Palestine 36, a gripping historical drama by acclaimed director Annemarie Jacir. “It’s about Britain’s role in 1936 in Israel-Palestine,” explains Clarke. “It’ll illuminate for a lot of people why Britain is so involved in this story.”
Also screening is Tomorrow’s Freedom, a portrait of Palestinian leader Marwan Barghouti, now in his twentieth year of imprisonment, alongside a slate of films exploring coexistence and peace-building. “There’s There Is Another Way, about Israeli and Palestinian former combatants working together, and Coexistence My Arse!, a satire made by an Israeli Iranian comedian,” Bernstein grins. “It’s a rich mix that’s serious but also funny and human.”
Beyond the screen, LPFF continues to champion art as activism, with family sessions on Palestinian street art and a new collaboration with Artists Supporting Palestine. “We’re always thinking about how to make the festival more multimedia and accessible,” Bernstein says. “We want people who might not come to a film screening to still want to engage with art and community.”
Behind every screening stands a small army of around thirty volunteers who handle everything from social media to event production. “Some are students, some work in tech, some are of Palestinian heritage and find a home here,” Bernstein says. “It’s amazing watching them build friendships and confidence.”
From Leeds to Gaza and back again
As the organisers look ahead, their ambitions are less about size than retaining community focus. “We don’t necessarily want to grow bigger,” Johnson admits. “We’re a volunteer group and at full capacity. What we want is to deepen our links with Palestinian filmmakers whilst showcasing their work to new audiences.”
That vision captures LPFF’s quiet radicalism and its belief that film can connect two places separated by politics and war. “For people in Gaza, knowing that there are audiences in Leeds watching their films, caring about their stories – that matters,” confirms Bernstein. “It keeps Gazan voices alive.”
This year, as the city’s screens light up in cinemas (and other more unconventional venues, such as community halls and bookshops), the LPFF reminds us that cinema is not just entertainment. It’s an act of witness, a bridge to another part of the world, and, sometimes, a form of resistance.
